Funny, He Doesn't Look Orcish
by unforth
Summary: Convinced of the necessity of war with the orcs, King John sent Dean to spy on the Orcs of the Kingdom of Purgatory. At first, Dean agrees with John's assessment of the situation, but eventually he comes to see things differently. The hard part - surprisingly - is convincing Sam...


LOOKIE I WROTE SOMETHING SHORT.

I needed a short break from writing Disconnected so here, have some Writing Prompt Wednesday fluff.

What is Writing Prompt Wednesday?

Writing Prompt Wednesday is a feature I run on my Tumblr. Followers, readers and friends suggest themes for AUs, and I come up with a list of prompts based on the suggested them. Then, based on those prompts, anyone who wants to join in writes up a short story (or a long story, I guess) and posts it to Tumblr (or AO3, or FFdotnet, or wherever) and tags it Writing Prompt Wednesday! If you cross post to AO3, make sure you add the story to the Writing Prompt Wednesday Collection.

This story is for Week 15: Spy AUs.

You can read more about Writing Prompt Wednesday and see the prompts on my Tumblr, unforth-ninawaters.

I chose this prompt:

 _Infiltrate the orcish (or other fantasy race) kingdoms, they said. It'll be easy, they said. Just use this polymorph potion, they said. …they were…strangely right? I actually kind of love being an orc. I'm not really sure what I do with that._

* * *

"But Dean, you _hated_ this assignment," Sam protested.

Dean scowled. He loved scowling. On a human face, scowls were sort of silly, but now that he had thick orcish lips and a brooding brow and dark skin, he could really, _really_ scowl. He'd seen his reflection (…okay, he'd stared at his reflection for at least an hour making different expressions…) and he knew how intimidating and effective his scowl was now.

"Right, Sammy," said Dean. He'd gotten used to his new voice, too. It was lower, gruffer, perfectly suited to the harsh orcish language. Dean's fluency in orcish was why he'd been given this assignment in the first place. " _Hated_. Past tense. It's actually not so bad. The orcs are pretty cool. Awesome armorsmiths. And these guns?" He flexed his thick-corded arms for emphasis. "Fuckin' flawless."

"You do remember you're a spy, right?" said Sam, rolling his eyes. "They're not _actually_ your friends? You're feeding information back home so that Lawrence can better defeat them in battle?"

"Yeah, 'bout that – you've been telling the king everything I've passed on, right?"

"Of course I've told _dad_ everything." Sam was growing increasingly exasperated with him, though Dean couldn't imagine why. Sam was usually the cautious one, usually the peaceable one. He should be happy that Dean had changed his tune. "And he told me to tell you that he wants you to come home now. I'm sick of being a go-between, by the way."

"Hey, you're the one who wanted to be a mage," Dean shrugged. "It's on you that you're the only one in the capital who can maintain the communication spell. Anyway. I'll say it again: I really don't think these guys are interested in war. I think we should sue for peace. I bet they'd be interested. The concessions they're asking aren't unreasonable."

"They want the entire southern tier of the kingdom!" exploded Sam. "I'm all for a truce – you _know_ I hate all this bloodshed – but that's insane!"

"Come on, Sammy, they've offered to help relocate our affected citizens and promised us continued exclusive mining rights, _and_ they'll keep the frost giants at bay," Dean explained patiently. "Everything we lose in territory, we gain in improved border security, good relations, and their help in accessing the mines. It's a good deal."

"Dad says it's bull," Sam said bluntly.

"Since when do you mindlessly agree with whatever dad says?" Dean asked. "Fuck, Sam, did you accidentally include some sort of mind swap when you cast the damn polymorph spell? Cause last I knew, I was the gung-ho one who followed orders and you were the hippie always lookin' for a way to make things right."

Sam started to say something loud and angry but cut off before Dean could figure out what he had in mind. With an explosive sigh, Sam deflated. "You've got no idea what it's been like here since you left, Dean. Half the people are crazy for peace, the other half thing we should kill every last orc, and I feel like I'm stuck in the middle. Dad won't agree to that deal, though. He doesn't trust them."

"Fuck, I'm sorry things have been so bad," Dean sighed. The news shouldn't surprise him, especially about dad, but he had hoped that his kingdom would be more amenable to ending the conflict. "I had no idea. Isn't it enough for him that _I_ trust the orcs?" Dean knew the answer even before he saw Sam shake his head. Of _course_ John didn't believe Dean. That would require that he have faith in Dean's abilities to assess the situation. The asshole spent twenty five years training Dean in warfare, spying, and leadership, and still didn't think Dean was actually capable of…well, much of anything. Which, Dean reflected, probably said a great deal more about John than it did about Dean. For the first time in his life, Dean considered his father's opinion of him and didn't feel wretched. If anything, he felt more secure in his decision. "Do what you can to convince him."

"Come back and do it yourself," insisted Sam. Where earlier, he'd sounded angry, now he sounded hopeful. "Dad listens to you!" Dean snorted in disbelief. "Fine, yeah, he doesn't listen to either of us, but at least the two of us will be better than one!"

"I'm not coming back," said Dean firmly.

"But Dean—"

"I said no, Sammy," interrupted Dean. "Look, you work on convincing some of the others – Bobby, Ellen, anyone else who will listen – and I'll see what I can do here, 'kay?"

Opening his mouth, Sam was clearly working himself up to something, only to sigh again and let whatever it was go. "Look…just…I'll do what I can, of course. But promise me something."

"Depends on what."

"Next time we talk, will you tell me what this is all about – what it's _really_ all about? Cause I know you, Dean, and I know there's something more going on than that you 'like being an orc' and that you want to see peace."

"What, my being comfortable in my new identity AND wanting to save hundreds in lives in two kingdoms ain't enough for you, Sam?" Despite the harshness of the words, Dean couldn't help but smile. Sam was right. The worst part was, Dean was _supposed_ to tell him the full story this conversation, but with the moment upon him the words wouldn't come.

"It's plenty, I just…" Sam took a heartening breath. "You seem happy – happier than I've ever seen you, honestly – and I want to understand why."

"You remember when you went to the Academy and were away from dad and you were in fricken seventh heaven, and when you came back you couldn't understand why I was pissy with you?" Dean remembered it vividly. He'd been angry because Sam was moving on, growing up, escaping. At the time, Dean couldn't imagine wanting to leave Lawrence, wanting to leave dad. They had been raised to be soldiers, to defend their kingdom, and that Sam might want more than that had seemed impossible. In the end, Sam had come back, not because he'd wanted to but because he'd felt he had to. Their mother had died in an orc raid, John had declared war, and Dean had pushed his brother to help in the capital. Now, Sam was the one stuck there, and Dean was free, and he understood clearly for the first time what Sam had gained when he'd left Lawrence. "It's the same, it's just the same. I _belong_ here. I never belonged in Lawrence, I just thought I did." He heard a rustle from the back of the surprisingly comfortable, livable cave, a quiet sound whose meaning he couldn't suss out. "And I'm sorry that I dragged you back into the city. I know better now. I regret it. If we can make this peace happen, you can get out again – do your own thing, go on that research expedition you've always talked about. I'm working on it here – you work on it there, okay?"

"Yeah – yeah, sure," Sam nodded. "You'll tell me when you're ready?"

"I will, I promise."

The spell ended, the image of Sam's face vanishing from the burnished mirror.

"You didn't tell him," said Cas from the back of the room, voice as quiet as a barrel-chested, powerful orc could manage – a carrying rumble that anyone in the cave would be able to hear clearly. Fortunately, Dean's cave was not communal, or at least it hadn't been until Cas started sleeping over every night.

"So that's my brother, Sam," Dean tried to divert the conversation, turning to Cas. All he got was an expressively raised eyebrow. "Yeah, sorry, I wussed out. But I do have a plan." The eyebrow raised higher. "Well, I was thinking, ya know, Lawrence might need some assurances – my _dad_ might need some convincing – and if we can get them to even listen, we could propose something more solid to secure the alliance." This whole "negotiation" thing had gotten _much_ easier when Dean decided to break his cover and tell Cas who he really was.

"I'm not sure what more we can offer," said Cas, frustrated. "As you explained to your brother, our current terms are more than reasonable. If King Winchester were not pursuing his personal vendetta over the rebels who killed your mother – rebels who, I'll remind you, we captured and executed ourselves before the first battle was even joined – this war would never have started, much less be dragging into its third year."

"Um, well, I don't think you'll mind what I think you should offer," Dean, suddenly self-conscious. For all that he loved how tough and strong his orcish body was, he couldn't deny that he felt even more self-conscious than he normally would have as he toed nervously at the ground, unable to bring himself to meet Cas' expressive, jewel-blue eyes.

"Your behavior suggests otherwise," Castiel grumped. "I doubt I'll like it much at all."

"Oh." Dean's shoulders slumped, but he forced himself on. "Hear me out. What if we offered to secure the alliance with a marriage?" Glancing up to assess Cas' reaction, he was disappointed to see that there was no glimmer of understanding on his face. "If a prominent person from Lawrence were wed to a prominent person from Purgatory…" He trailed off hopefully. Cas frowned, baring sharp canines.

"My sister would not be amenable to such an arrangement," said Cas, obviously disgruntled at the prospect.

Dean dropped his head into his hands, digging talons into his bald scalp. Not having hair on top of his head was still weird. "No, not Anna."

"Then I'm afraid I'm not following you."

"You, Cas."

"You haven't got a sister for me to marry, Dean."

"You and _me_ , Cas!" Dean couldn't believe he had to spell this out.

Cas' eyes narrowed, then widened. By the Gods, Dean thought he could drown in those beautiful depths. "Are you proposing to me?" Cas asked, voice choked.

"Uh…sure?"

"But we're both men," Cas objected. Despite his words, there was an edge of hopefulness to his tone and his lips were quirked in the barest hint of a smile. "Can we… _do_ that?"

"Well, I'm prince of Lawrence…" Dean trailed off, waiting until Cas nodded agreement. "And you're king of Purgatory…" Cas nodded again. "Who, exactly, is going to stop us?"

Cas broke into a toothy grin, and Dean had to smile back.

He _loved_ being an orc.

* * *

I made a deliberate choice to use modern slang in this silly little fantasy story...was it too weird?

As always, for the most up-to-date information on what I'm doing with my writing, or if you just want to get to be friends, follow me on my Tumblr – unforth-ninawaters


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